


Paranormality and the art of dating

by Tanni



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2014-12-30
Packaged: 2018-03-04 10:04:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3063824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tanni/pseuds/Tanni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"So Liam." Louis peers at the man sitting across from him in the back office, also known as Harry's old craft room. Harry misses having a craft room, but it stills smells a bit like burnt rubber so it’s probably for the best. "Why do you want to hunt ghosts?"</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>"Um," Liam says. "I don’t want to hunt ghosts? I thought you were looking for like, an admin assistant?" He looks down at his phone. "Is this not number 78b?"</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>"Oh, yeah. No, that’s next door, we’re 78a," Louis says, looking unperturbed. "Anyway. Congratulations Liam, you're hired!"</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Or: Harry, Niall, Louis and Liam are terrible ghostbusters and Zayn has a haunted flat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paranormality and the art of dating

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ciel_vert](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ciel_vert/gifts).



> This is a holiday gift for [ciel_vert](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ciel_vert) who asked for "1D: ghosthunters!" and received a very literal interpretation of the text! Loosely inspired by the first Ghostbusters movie because I tragically don't know anything about hunting ghosts.
> 
> Thanks bunches to [nothinginfinite](http://archiveofourown.org/users/nothinginfinite) for proofreading this for me! Any remaining mistakes are mine, miiine.

"Fuck!" The shout is accompanied by the sound of the apartment door slamming, and Harry winces before he resumes stirring the sauce into the big pot of pasta. Mrs Ivanovic from downstairs is going to glare at them on the stairs again. He glances over the kitchen counter cautiously.

"Hey Louis," Niall says absently, not looking up from whatever he's doing. It’s dark with rain outside, but he’s got a bright desk lamp on the coffee table. He's sitting cross-legged on the carpet in front of it, his tongue poking out as he carefully twists a tiny screw on the strange device he just disassembled.

"Hey." Louis falls down heavily onto the sofa, letting out a sigh. There's an awkward silence where he clearly wants one of them to ask him what's wrong. Niall whistles under his breath, tightening the screw and completely ignoring Louis glaring at him.

Harry sets down a bowl of pasta next to Niall's thingamabob and puts a second one in Louis' hands. "What's wrong?" he asks, plopping down on the armrest of the sofa and tucking his toes under Louis’ thigh.

"I got sacked again, that’s what." Louis frowns quietly, glaring at nothing in particular.

"Shit." That makes Niall look up, his fork hovering in the air halfway between his food and his mouth. "Really?"

Harry doesn’t say anything, but he worries his lip. He understood when the three of them lost their grant at the university for not _technically_ doing any doctoral work with it, but Louis’ job was the only thing standing between them and an eviction. He really doesn’t want to be homeless for Christmas. Or at all.

"Yeah. Said my behaviour wasn't professional enough. It's a toy shop, for fuck's sake. They've got their priorities all fucked up, that's what." Louis kicks at a leg of the coffee table, making Niall wince and curl his arms around the mass of screw and springs jumping up. "All I did was make some improvements to the train set."

"Told you it would happen." Niall looks at Harry and shakes his head, unable to hold back a smile. "An inventor working in a toy shop. What could possibly go wrong?"

"I'm a _scientist_ , dick. I don't go around calling you a handyman, do I?" Louis kicks the table leg again, definitely on purpose this time. "How's it coming along, anyway?"

Niall shrugs, pointing the device at Louis and slowly scanning him from top to bottom. Nothing happens.

“Looks dead as a doornail, mate,” Louis says with a shrug. 

Niall chews his lip. "Well. It's only supposed to beep when there's a spirit. So it probably works, I reckon. All this means is that you're not possessed by an evil presence. I think," he says uncertainly.

"I think it's broken, then." Harry grins, before Louis throws a pillow at his face, sending Harry’s pasta flying. "See? Definite evil presence." He sighs, getting a mop and bucket.

“I wish there was a way to test it properly,” Niall muses in between bites. “Oh, maybe I should fix it so it always beeps, and _stops_ beeping when there’s a presence!” 

“Yes, and maybe I’ll throw it out the window within a day, for driving me absolutely insane.” Louis shoots him a look. Neither of them move to help Harry scrub the carpet which is totally fine, he’s not bitter.

“So what are we gonna do for money?” Harry offers carefully once he’s finished and tucking back into his cold pasta. “We’ll have to go look for proper jobs, I guess. I know the bakery down the street said I could always come back.”

"Hey, you know what we should do?" Niall says suddenly, sitting upright. His eyes are glittering. "We should go into business for ourselves, that's what."

"Doing what, exactly?" Louis raises an eyebrow.

"Helping out people, getting rid of evil spirits that plague them, exorcising and stuff!" Niall looks properly excited now, and Harry can't help himself, he feels it too. It sounds mad, but he's always wanted to have a job that nobody else has, a life that’s special and that means something.

"Niall, you've never exorcised anything you didn’t eat first," Louis scoffs, rolling his eyes.

"No, but I could if I wanted to. I've read all about it. And if I can just get this equipment to work, we could use it to track ‘em down!” Niall pats his thingamabob lovingly. “Besides, we got rid of a ghost that one time, remember? We've got the experience." He doesn't look like he's going to be dissuaded, and Harry has to admit that Niall has a point. Even if all they did was politely ask the lady who haunted the bed & breakfast they were staying at to pass on, she still did. Harry doesn't think they'll all be that easy going, but it gives him a bit of hope, anyway.

"I think it might be really interesting and nice. I mean, _strange_ , but people think I'm strange anyway." He grins at Niall. "I'm in."

"Legend." Niall grins back.

"Fine. Fine. But if we're gonna do this, we're gonna do it my way." Louis leans forward, narrowing his eyes at them as he spoons some pasta into his mouth, and Harry knows he's just as into it.

***

Louis spends the next two days thinking up marketing strategies, taking out ads in various papers and ‘selling their brand’. They even get their picture taken by a professional photographer, all three of them dressed in white coats 'so people will take them seriously as scientists', Louis says. Harry sort of doubts this will happen regardless but as it turns out, doing a photo shoot is a lot of fun.

Harry does his part by taking a more personal approach. He goes out every day and talks to everyone he comes across: at the coffee shop, while buying sausages at the butcher's, while walking in the park. A lot of people make a strange, quiet noise at him and take a quick step back, although he does get three phone numbers out of it, as well a surprisingly nice blowjob in the Starbucks storage room. It doesn't really look like any of them are having any problems with ghosts, though.

Meanwhile, Niall locks himself in his room to fine tune all the analysers and counters and energy measuring equipment he's made. Harry doesn’t know what any of them do, and he’s not allowed to touch them since that one time he almost set Niall on fire. Niall only comes out to eat, and doesn't even open the door when there's a dull pop followed by smoke coming from under the door. "Everything's fine!" he shouts, voice muffled, and that's that.

They're definitely not getting their deposit back.

***

It takes a few weeks of them mostly eating cheese on toast, but then customers slowly start trickling in. It quickly becomes apparent that none of their homes are actually haunted. The customers believe they are though, so after the first few times they just show up in their white coats, frowning at the walls and pointing their energy meters at random corners of the ceiling. At the end of the day, they tell their clients that their home is free of ghosts, which is _technically_ true, and everyone gets paid and is happy.

"This might be the cushiest job I've ever had," Louis says with a grin as they drive back into the city one afternoon. He’s got the visor down against the late autumn sun and he’s counting fifty-pound notes in the passenger seat with his feet propped up against the dashboard.

"I do feel a bit bad. But it's not our fault that all our clients are paranoid, I figure." Niall shrugs a bit and drums his fingers against the steering wheel.

Harry doesn't say anything, because he _does_ feel bad about taking people's hard-earned cash, but they really do need the money for rent and food. And, he firmly tells himself, it’s not like they’re _trying_ to be con artists. If people really need their help, they would take that job just as quickly. He thinks. "We've got two more appointments tonight," he says instead, scrolling through the day planner on his phone.

"Fuck, no. Really? I'm exhausted." Niall makes a face. "Hey, maybe we should hire more help."

***

They get exactly _one_ response to the ad they put in the paper. Louis considers using the big job searching websites, but he has no idea which category 'ghost hunting' falls under, and they don't think 'extermination' will attract the right sort of applicants, so an ad it is.

"So Liam," Louis says as he peers at the man sitting across from them in the back office, also known as Harry's old craft room. Harry misses having a craft room, but it stills smells a bit like burnt rubber so it’s probably for the best. "Why do you want to hunt ghosts?"

"Um," Liam says. He rubs the back of his neck, looking at the three of them in nervous confusion. "I don’t want to hunt ghosts? I thought you were looking for like, an admin assistant?" He looks down at his phone. "Is this not number 78b?"

"Oh, yeah. No, that’s next door, we’re 78a," Louis says, looking unperturbed. "Anyway. Congratulations Liam, you're hired!"

"I. What?" Liam says, blinking.

***

It’s a rare sunny morning in early December when they get a phone call sending them to a large four-storey Victorian house in Dartmouth Park. It’s been uncharacteristically quiet all week as far as cases go, something Niall dramatically dubbed ‘the city holding its breath before the scream’, after something he’s read in a book. Louis just called it ‘an excellent opportunity to get Liam up to speed before we throw him in the deep end’. Liam, despite not knowing anything about ghosts, seemed eager to help them out - and went significantly less pale once Harry patiently explained that Niall was joking about the scream and that they just needed him to learn what all the equipment does. “It’s not like he needs to know more than that, or that our cases are nothing more than creaking houses and paranoid owners with money to burn,” Louis had said.

“This is another good example,” Harry quietly says to himself now, as he looks up at the house. It’s beautiful and serves as a small boutique hotel, or at least that’s what the owner told them as he threw them a set of keys and sped off in his Aston Martin. Harry wonders if they should worry. In his experience, rich people aren’t usually very eager to let four young lads roam about their house unattended.

“Right, let’s take a look. Ready for your first case, Liam? Do try to behave professionally when we tell the owner we’ve saved him from a terrible poltergeist, yeah?” Louis grins, throwing an arm around Liam’s shoulders and pointing at Niall, who’s already halfway to the door. Niall’s decked out with measuring equipment, a large Uzi-like weapon strapped to his back and a pair of goggles in his hair that Harry strongly suspects are just for show.

Liam nods and grins back at Louis. “Ready!” he announces, before the two of them follow Niall up the stairs. Harry trudges up after them, looking around as they enter and absently wishing they made enough money for a house like this. Maybe then he wouldn’t have to sleep in the same room as the central heating system.

Thinking about the central heating makes Harry realise how cold the house is. The air is chilly, as if someone had left all the windows open. He frowns and rubs the goose bumps off his arms with both hands as he looks up. Now that he’s paying attention, he notices the corridor and staircase are gloomy, like they’re not getting enough daylight. Harry wants to blame the fact that it’s December, but the chill and the gloom seem to have settled somewhere in his stomach now as well, so he doesn’t think that’s it.

"Lads!" Niall hisses under his breath suddenly. "I think I've got something." He waves them over, and they crowd around him on the marble staircase leading up to the first floor, watching the needle on the energy meter go crazy. 

"Hell." Harry blinks. He's never seen their equipment give a response like this. He exchanges a worried look with Louis and then looks over at Liam, who mostly just looks excited and interested. Harry wishes they’d told Liam that 99% of their cases turn out to be nothing at all. Instead, he thinks they're just terrific at their job. They really, _really_ have to try not to get Liam horribly injured.

"Let's hope not, mate," Liam quips. "Which way, then?"

Niall points them up the stairs, very quietly by Niall standards. They all troop behind him rather meekly, following Niall into a large upstairs library. At the very least, if there is something here and they manage to get rid of it, these people will be able to pay them a handsome fee.

It's definitely a poltergeist. Harry can tell by the chair that narrowly misses the side of his head as it's catapulted across the room when they enter.

"Fucking hell!" Louis shouts.

“What do we do?!” Liam stares at them all in turn, hoping for answers. Harry wishes he knew what to tell him, but he’s a little distracted by the invisible hand grabbing his hair and flinging him backwards against the wall. He takes the brunt of it with his shoulder and slides down the floral wallpaper, rubbing his head where the spirit grabbed him. Something cackles and tears off down the corridor.

“After it, go after it!” Louis shouts, waving his arms about. Niall sprints off in hot pursuit, with Louis and Liam in tow. Harry gives himself a moment to breathe in deeply and then follows, still a bit groggy from the tumble. If this is actual ghost-hunting, he no longer thinks it’s a great idea.

Niall rounds the corner and starts down the stairwell, but he is barely out of sight when he cries out, and Louis mutters a curse under his breath and speeds up. They come skidding around the corner and grind to a halt. Niall is halfway down on the landing, sprawled out on his back, and Harry’s heart jumps and skips in his throat.

“Motherfucker.” Niall coughs the following moment, gagging. “Son of a bitch slimed me.”

Harry blinks and walks down a few steps until he can crouch next to Niall. Now that he’s closer, he can clearly see the thick, transparent goo Niall is covered in.

“Brilliant,” Liam murmurs, staring down at Niall. He clears his throat. “I mean, it looks _awful_. But it’s really interesting in like, a scientific way, isn’t it?”

“You’re very right, Liam. At least someone is sensible under pressure. We’re gonna need samples of that later, Niall. Whatever you do, don’t wash it off.” Louis grins in a way that makes Harry suspect he’s considering this a double win.

“It got in my mouth. Oh fuck, that’s disgusting.” Niall gags again, sticking out his tongue while simultaneously glaring up at Louis. He sits up and hands Louis the antimatter-gun that’s been strapped to his back and then flops back down. “Go on without me, Louis. Explode this one good, for my sake.”

“God, you’re dramatic.” Louis grins, cocking the gun and sprinting back down the hall. Harry flinches as the gun goes off with a series of deafening cracks, Louis shouting, “Die, die, die!” over the racket, followed by a cheerful, “Missed it. Let’s try again!”

“Should we tell him that it’s already dead?” Liam shrugs, before pausing. “It is, right?”

“Yeah, very dead. I think it was just poetic license though -” Harry says, but the next moment something hisses loudly in his ear and he goes flying again. “It spit in my ear,” he mumbles sadly into the carpet once he’s no longer airborne. He slowly rolls over onto his back and blinks up at the ceiling. He really wishes he’d just gone back to the bakery.

Niall pushes his goggles down onto his face, peering down the hall. Harry realizes what they do when Niall shouts, “I see it! Liam, it’s coming for you, shoot!”

“Aaaahhh!” Liam screams, but he points his own gun and fires, squeezing his eyes shut. There’s a sickening crunching sound followed by a low pop, and then everything is silent. The cold, sad feeling in Harry’s gut disappears and he feels better for a few moments, until all the bruises make themselves known. He grunts, stumbling to his feet.

“You got it.” Niall blinks. He stands up quietly and stares around at them in wonder. The corridor is full of sunlight coming through the windows. “Sick!”

“I did?” Liam looks down at the gun and then all around himself, trying to see the invisible poltergeist. Harry likes Liam a lot already. “Hey, I just killed a ghost! Sort of, I guess.” He smiles wide. “This is the best job ever, guys.”

Louis smiles, padding back over to them and solemnly handing Niall back his gun. “We usually don’t say killed, since they’re already dead. We just… undo them. But you Undid your first poltergeist, so congratulations, Liam.” 

“It was our first poltergeist too, if we’re honest,” Niall says, and he’s smiling even though he’s pale and shaking and covered in probable ectoplasm. “That was brilliant, lads.”

“Wait, are you serious?” Liam twitches as if to take a step back, but doesn’t move away.

“We may have exaggerated our experience with real ghosts ever so slightly. But I say we did alright!” Louis grins, fishing what looks like soap splinters from his hair. Harry gives him a questioning look. Louis just shrugs. “Tiny mishap in the bathroom. The clients will understand.”

***

By the time they get back to the flat, Harry’s whole body hurts. All he wants is a long soak in the bath and maybe a nice snack, and to not have to think about that poltergeist-induced cold, sick feeling in his stomach.

"My meter wasn't working at the house, earlier. The needle was all over the bloody place in the garden, but when it mattered, inside? Zero." Louis makes a face, propping up the weapons against the kitchen counter while Niall and Liam fall onto the sofa and dig into a bag of peanuts. "Why is our equipment so shit?"

"We'll need more AA batteries, I guess." Harry looks up, already mentally adding it to their shopping list.

"Again? Come on, we just have to get better meters. We can barely use them once before they're drained. It's no way to work." Louis rolls his eyes.

"Well then next time _you_ invent the equipment, Tommo." Niall throws a peanut at his head, before he dutifully gets up to fetch it. He really doesn't like to waste food.

"Fine. Maybe I will." Louis makes a face at him. “Anyway, we should go and have a beer, celebrate our first proper case. Bit harder than our usual work days, but definitely worth it.” Louis grins. Harry has to agree. He’s black and blue and he’s fairly sure his wrist is at least mildly sprained, but they vanquished a poltergeist and it feels _fantastic_. “Harry, you’re on call, alright?”

“Oh. Yeah, alright.” Harry deflates a little but he nods anyway. He hates being on call more than anything, because all it really means is that the others can go out and get on the beers while Harry stays at home in the sitting room - also known as the front office - in case someone rings them. Which happens often, it has to be said. Unfortunately, the vast majority of phone calls are just people taking the piss. On the bright side, if there are no phone calls, maybe he can take that bath...

“Yes, I am very serious,” Harry says patiently into the phone an hour later. “And I really do think if your golden retriever is breathing fire, we might be more useful than a veterinarian.” He settles back onto the sofa and burrows further into his fluffy bathrobe, fishing a slice of pizza out of the box. If the others are going to rudely abandon him in favour of getting drunk, he’s not going to leave them any pizza. Well. Maybe he’ll leave Niall a slice. He’s not that cruel.

He blinks when there’s a knock at the door. “Come in?” he ventures carefully, hoping it’s a client and not a home jacking. Probably home jackers wouldn’t knock, though...

“Er. Hello.” A stupidly beautiful young man steps in and looks around the office-slash-sitting room. “Sorry. I don’t think I’m in the right place.”

“No, it’s £500 for the exorcism,” Harry says into the phone, satisfied when the line goes dead. Mentioning their fees is always a quick and excellent way of weeding out the jokers. “Hello,” he tells the man, leaving the phone off the hook. “Depends. The admin assistant job? It’s next door, but I think they might be gone for the night,” Harry ventures.

“No, I just thought...” The man shakes his head. “It’s nothing, really. Just a mistake.” He’s twisting his fists in the pockets of his leather jacket with nervous energy.

Harry leans forward curiously. They’ve never had a client actually asking for their help in person. “Are you maybe looking for someone to… lift your spirits?”

A smile breaks out across the guy’s features. It looks almost goofy and it completely changes his face. Harry can’t help but smile back. “That’s terrible.” The guy grins. “But yeah, I guess I am.”

“I didn’t mean it in a sex worker way,” Harry says quickly. “I mean, just to clarify. I think there are people who can help with that on the fourth floor, though?”

“No,” the man smiles faintly, all nerves again. “I think there’s like. I think there’s something in my flat?” He looks so uncomfortable saying it, and Harry smiles.

“Something spooky? I think we can definitely help with that.” 

“You sure about that?” The man raises an eyebrow. “I mean, you don’t even have an office -”

“Hey,” Harry says, offended. “I have a notepad.” He holds it up with his good hand.

The guy ignores him. “- and I thought there were more people working here, not just you. I mean. The ad made it look like there were. Also, you’re in your bathrobe.”

“Ah yes. Well, they’re on the beers right now, I’m afraid, but I can get dressed and come by your place tonight to identify the problem and then we’ll all come back later to get rid of it?” he offers. He’s almost completely sure that Louis and Niall won’t mind him leaving the office if it’s for a client. A really, _really_ handsome client. Maybe he won’t necessarily mention that part to them.

“Yeah alright, why not? I’m Zayn. Malik.” He holds out his hand, and Harry’s quick to shake it and introduce himself. Zayn’s hand isn’t perfect and airbrushed looking like the rest of him seems to be, it’s covered in splashes of paint and turpentine and his nails are bitten short.

It’s because he’s a painter. Zayn tells Harry as much on the way over to his place, but Harry could have guessed as much from the moment he steps inside and sees Zayn’s walls. The hallway connecting the front door to a glass door leading to the workspace is long and narrow. It should be dark and gloomy looking, but instead the walls are covered in bright swirls, fragments of scenes, exotic looking symbols and even more exotic looking faces. The whole thing is beautiful and strange, almost like a story Harry has missed the beginning of.

“Wow,” he breathes.

Zayn ducks his head and grins. “You like it?”

“It’s overwhelming,” Harry says honestly, smiling. He’s always wanted to be the kind of person who can appreciate good art, but he never expected to be this taken aback. “Why are you not famous, Zayn Malik?”

Zayn tries to fight a grin, shaking his head and clearing his throat. “Right, anyway. It, er. It happened in the bathroom.”

“What? Oh. Right, yes. Leave it all to me. We deal with terrible things on a daily basis,” Harry says solemnly, trying to give him Louis’ confident look and Liam’s earnest one, but Zayn just looks at him dubiously. He leads the way into the workspace, which is large and mostly empty save for a small built-in kitchen, a sofa in the middle of the space, and a messy bed pushed into a corner of the room. Stacked paintings lean against the walls or rest half-finished on easels.

Harry chews his lip, crouching and opening his backpack. He starts to dig out his material, trying to look professional and in control of things all the while. He’s not really used to people not immediately being charmed by him. Especially when those people are frightened of ghosts and he’s there to help get rid of them.

It doesn’t help that all the machinery stays unnervingly silent. The needles don’t move, the lights don’t flash. Usually, even without spiritual activity, the needle will twitch near the zero, and the lights will at least be on to show that everything is working. He remembers what Louis said about his meter and checks the batteries, but they’re fine.

That’s when he takes a moment to look around and listen. The place feels like the polar opposite of the cold gloom at the boutique hotel this morning. In fact, Harry’s never been anywhere that felt so… dead. Which makes no sense, because as a rule historical landmarks, libraries and art galleries, or any place that evokes emotions, are like magnets for the otherworldly. Niall made them sit through an entire PowerPoint presentation on the subject only last month. Instead, it’s like the place has been spiritually scrubbed clean. And not in the good way.

“Hm. Sorry, these usually work,” he mumbles, tapping the device against his thigh in a rather futile attempt to make something light up or beep.

“Right,” Zayn says. Harry is getting the sinking feeling that he’s not making the best impression. “Look, it’s alright,” Zayn says with a faint shrug, stepping a little closer. “I probably imagined it, anyway. I get really into my work sometimes, it probably, like. Messed with my head a bit.” He smiles, and it’s such a nice smile, but Harry still feels like Zayn’s humouring him.

“You don’t understand.” Harry gets back to his feet, stepping on Zayn’s toes in the process. To Zayn’s eternal credit, he not only doesn’t even flinch, but he grabs both of Harry’s arms and keeps him from toppling over.

Zayn’s hands are really warm. “Thanks,” Harry mumbles, trying not to look like he’s swooning. “But, like. It’s not rubbish equipment or anything. It’s more like… Like something is blocking the signal. Like those magnets that stop your credit cards from working.” He’s not really sure how that works and whether he only saw it in a procedural show on the telly or if it’s a real thing, but the metaphor works. Sort of. “Maybe. Maybe it would help if you describe what you saw?”

Zayn frowns, looking around. “I didn’t really see anything much. Just like... like there was something moving in the corner of my eye, all the time. And then one time in the bathroom, I heard this cackling.”

Harry blinks. “Cackling.”

“Yeah, like this.” Zayn suddenly cackles loudly, and it startles Harry so much that he almost drops his energy meter - Niall would kill him. He stares at Zayn, who he didn’t really take for the cackling type, and then he can’t help himself and bursts out laughing.

“Shut up,” Zayn says but he’s grinning too. “It sounded scary, alright?”

“Terrifying,” Harry agrees, trying to stifle his giggles. “Seriously though. That’s not a thing that should happen.” He steps into the bathroom, but other than a concerning amount of hair product there is nothing out of the ordinary so be seen or heard there. “I wish I could tell you I know what did it.”

“I don’t _think_ I imagined it… But maybe…” Zayn’s starting to doubt himself, and it makes Harry feel bad for not being able to help.

“No, I don’t think you did. I haven’t ever had my equipment do that though. I’m going to ask the guys about this, and do like… research. I’ll ring you as soon as I know something, yeah?” He has no idea what he’s meant to search for, but hopefully Niall will know. “We’re going to help you though, Zayn. Promise. I’m just not really sure how to do it on my own, but we’ll fix it.”

“Yeah? Thanks.” Zayn smiles at him in relief. “I don’t really want to bring someone home and have the walls cackling at him, you know? Kills the mood, kind of.”

“Yeah, well,” Harry grins up at him, stuffing everything back into his backpack. Something is doing swoops and dips in his stomach in a very ghostly manner. “You’ll just have to bring home someone who can deal with a ghost or two, won’t you?”

“Guess I’ll have to, yeah.” Zayn smiles wider, not looking away from him, and Harry’s about two minutes away from performing an exorcism on his own insides.

***

“You did what?” Louis frowns, sticking his fork upright in his dessert.

“I said we’d help. All of us.” Harry gives Louis a defiant look.

“But, you said there was nothing strange at all, right?” Liam raises an eyebrow, playing with his knife absently. “You didn’t measure anything weird on the meters?”

“No but that _is_ the weird part.” Niall nods as he keeps chewing, pointing his fork at Harry. “There’s always at least something. Look.” He reaches under the coffee table, putting one of the meters next to his plate. It beeps softly, steadily. “It’s not broken now, so it’s more like it was disabled temporarily?”

Louis frowns. "Okay, that is weird, I’ll grant you. But do you even know if he can pay? We need to pay the rent, mate."

“True. And eat,” Niall adds helpfully.

"I don't know? He seemed a bit upset, so I didn't ask. But he's like, an artist, so maybe he's rich?" He doesn’t say that he’d probably help Zayn for free if it meant spending more time with him.

"Sure, as most artists are." Louis rolls his eyes. “The phrase ‘starving artist’ really brings that into sharp focus, doesn’t it?”

"I'm really gonna miss food," Niall says wistfully.

“I just really think he needs our help. Please?” Harry gives them all his most pleading eyes. He’s pretty sure it will work, no one in recorded history has ever said no to him.

Louis sighs heavily, his eyes boring into Harry. “He’s fit, isn’t he? Be honest, Harold.”

Harry lets his forehead hit the armrest of the sofa and groans. “So, _so_ fit, Louis. You don’t even know.”

“I don’t suppose you could stop thinking with your cock for one minute?” Louis looks at him in exasperation.

Harry sighs, shaking his head solemnly. “Hey, you haven’t seen him, alright? You would not doubt my motives if you had.”

“Oh, I _don’t_ doubt them, I know exactly what your motives are. Your motives involve sucking off hot young artists. Very unprofessional. Niall’s going to starve.” Louis shakes his head tragically, and Niall makes a sad choked noise.

“Well, I do think it’s weird that none of the meters worked. We should still look into that, shouldn’t we?” Liam offers. Harry loves Liam. Liam’s on his side. He nods in avid agreement.

“We really should. We need to know that our equipment can be trusted, yeah?” he says. This gets Niall on board.

“Fine. Fine. But you know we’re swamped this week so it’ll have to wait a few days.” Louis throws his hands into the air. Harry just beams at him and reaches over the coffee table to hug him, tipping the soy sauce all over Louis but thankfully not getting any of it on his own cashmere jumper. Louis squawks. “How do you do that?”

“Sorry. Good karma?” Harry grins. “I’ll ring Zayn and meet up with him for coffee tomorrow afternoon so we can agree on an appointment for next week.”

“How altruistic of you.” Louis grins, shaking his head. “Fine. It’s almost Christmas anyway, half the city’s away. The three of us should be able to handle our cases for one day if you end up whisking away our client for a quickie.”

***

“You realize you jinxed us, don’t you?” Liam mutters the following afternoon as he hits the answer button on the phone and says, “Hello, please hold,” before going back to the other line. “I’m sorry, you were saying? No, no I don’t think your Christmas tree is supposed to do that. Have you tried unplugging the lights?” He makes a helpless face at Harry. “Well if the lights are trying to strangle you, best to stay away, yes…”

Niall frowns, mouthing ‘what the fuck’ at Liam before nodding at his own mobile phone. “Right. Blood coming from the shower. That’s definitely not good. We’ll try to be there as soon as we can, but we’re a bit swamped right now. Maybe, er, put a bucket underneath in the mean time?” he says, faltering.

Harry runs a hand through his hair, looking at all of them. “I don’t think we’ve ever been this busy,” he tells Louis. “I wish I hadn’t planned this appointment now. I feel terrible leaving you all to handle the chaos.”

“No you don’t,” Louis says, waving a hand and then going back to checking their packs before they head out. “You’re thrilled to get out of here, as you should be. It’s a bloody mess. And stop calling it an appointment when it’s obviously a date, you idiot.”

Harry grins, bouncing on the tips of his toes and trying to ignore the happy tickle in the pit of his stomach. “Yeah. But I’ll try to be back as soon as possible, I promise.”

By the time Harry knocks on Zayn’s door, it’s already dark. The weather’s cold and blustery and he burrows a little deeper into his coat, wondering if they have to go out for coffee after all. The city seems to have gone mad tonight, maybe they could just stay at Zayn’s place. It seemed like he had a good, soft sofa for having drinks on. Maybe making out a little…

He shakes himself and sternly tells himself that He Is A Professional. And he does want to help Zayn. It’s just that if orgasms were involved after the helping, that might not be a terrible thing.

There’s no answer so Harry knocks again, louder this time. He can hear it reverberate in the dark, empty hall inside, the one with the gorgeous murals Zayn’s done. Then there’s a thump and finally footsteps approaching.

Harry has to admit that he’s a little surprised when Zayn opens the door in his bathrobe. It’s a nice bathrobe, black and silk and it’s definitely giving Harry some stirrings, but it’s also late afternoon. Harry thought they were going out and it’s not like he’s early.

“Sorry, are you running a bit late?”

“Yeah.” Zayn smiles slowly. “Come inside.” His eyes are very dark, and Harry doesn’t remember his voice being quite that deep. Or vaguely echoey.

He follows Zayn into the workspace, a sinking feeling settling in his chest, but it’s not until the door slams shut behind him and locks itself that he knows he’s in some very deep trouble. Not as much trouble as Zayn is in, though.

“Sooo, Zayn,” he says, trying to sound casual. “What did you get up to today, then?”

“Nothing.” Zayn spins around on his heels, grabbing Harry by his coat collar and dragging him into the bedroom. Harry’s feet actually leave the ground and in any other situation this would probably be _really_ hot, but right now it’s mostly terrifying. “I want you.”

“That’s great,” Harry says slowly, giving Zayn a wide smile. He goes along when Zayn tumbles backwards onto the bed and takes Harry with him. For a moment Harry just lies there, and the heat Zayn’s giving off seeps into his skin. He’s burning up. He’s also _so_ hard, Harry thinks it would probably hurt if Zayn could feel any pain right now. He can’t though, Harry’s pretty sure of that. He’s read enough about possession by spirits.

Zayn stares up at him, silent and unblinking, which would probably be creepy and portentous even if Harry didn’t already assume something was wrong. He tries to casually smile back, quickly fishing the handcuffs out of his back pocket and clicking them around Zayn’s wrists, the chain wrapped around one of the spindles in the headboard. Zayn, or whatever is currently controlling Zayn, lets out a high-pitched scream and tries to scrabble for Harry.

Harry quickly backs up and off the bed, panting. “Sorry. Don’t usually do this on a first date,” he says, catching his breath. The - whatever it is - struggles a little, but then stops fighting and just glares at him silently. Super strength is clearly not part of the possession package. Lucky break, Harry thinks wryly.

“I want your heart,” Zayn growls, his voice an echo that reverberates against Harry’s bones.

“See, that would sound romantic any other day of the week, but right now I worry you mean it literally.” Harry runs a hand through his hair and gets out his phone with shaking fingers. “I try not to date the possessed. Never know if they like me for me or for my vital organs.” 

He manages to dial the apartment, stepping into the doorway to put some distance between himself and Zayn. There’s no reply, so he dials Niall’s mobile phone instead.

“What’s up mate? Date not going too well?” Niall picks up almost immediately, chuckling.

Harry sucks in a shaky breath, trying to settle his thoughts. “A little bit too well. He dragged me into the bedroom the moment I stepped inside.” He makes a face and swallows nervously when Zayn tugs at the restraints, the headboard creaking ominously.

“And you’re calling me… why?” Niall sighs. “I’ve told you before, I’m not into being your audience, Harry -”

“No, no,” Harry says quickly, his eyes not leaving Zayn. “He’s, er. Definitely possessed.”

There’s a long silence, then Niall curses a long and colourful streak. “Okay. You’re on speakerphone, Harry. We were just on our way to a client, we’re in Hampstead. Where are you right now? Can you see him?”

“Looking at him right now. I handcuffed him to the bed. I think I made him angry, though.” He chews his lip when Zayn gives him a slow, scary smile.

On the other end of the line, Louis clears his throat. “Do you always carry handcuffs when you go on a first date? They don’t tend to trap ghosts, do they?”

“Can we discuss my preferences later? Right now I’d really like you all to come over and help me un-possess our client before he gets loose.” Harry frowns and gives them the address, hanging up after they’ve assured him they’re on their way with every bit of exorcising equipment they have.

He sighs and pads back over to the bed, sliding a small stool closer to the bed so he can sit and wait. Zayn, or previously-Zayn, growls quietly and tries to pull himself free with a sharp yank.

“You don’t scare me,” Harry says quietly, and he’s surprised to find that his voice isn’t even shaking. “Stealing good people’s bodies. You’re just a nobody. Get it? A no-body.”

The thing rolls Zayn’s eyes at him. Ghosts clearly have no sense of humour, Harry thinks, and he’s suddenly and painfully reminded of Zayn raising his eyebrows in amusement at Harry’s pun yesterday. He really doesn’t want to lose Zayn before they’ve even properly gotten to know each other. He bites his lip, reaching out to carefully pet Zayn’s knee. “Zayn? I hope you’re still in there. My friends are on their way, we’ll help you. Promise. We’ll get this horrid thing out of you.”

Zayn twists his head from side to side, his eyes screwed shut like he’s fighting against this. Harry smiles, getting up to fetch a damp wash cloth and gently dabbing Zayn’s forehead and cheeks with it. He keeps doing it until Zayn hisses and then tries to bite Harry’s hand right off.

“Fine. No nice cool forehead for you. Very ungrateful.” He sticks out his tongue. “This isn’t exactly how I pictured our first date either, you know. I mean, not that I said the word _date_ on the phone, I suppose. But I think you knew what I meant, right? One time, when I was still at uni, there was this guy down the corridor from me -”

“Stop talking,” the thing growls with Zayn’s voice.

Harry’s mouth snaps shut of its own accord. It’s much more effective than when Louis asks him the same thing. He gets back up and sits down on the sofa across the room, hoping desperately that whatever’s inside of Zayn isn’t slowly gaining the power of mind control. Relief washes over him when there is a loud knock on the door and he races down the hall to let the others in.

“How is he?” Louis asks.

“Kind of mean-spirited?” Harry shrugs quietly. Louis rolls his eyes at him and follows Niall and Liam into the workspace. “He’s burning up, we have to hurry.”

It’s not like Harry expected an exorcism to be. In the films, it’s all Gregorian chants and crucifixes and candles. Watching Niall get to work is a lot more scientific than that. Harry stands back and watches silently as Niall first brings out his goggles and a pair of aura analysers to see how Zayn’s coping with the possession. He makes a quietly upset face after a few long moments, and Harry wants to ask Niall what it looks like, wants to demand to see it as well, but Louis puts a hand on his arm and shakes his head quietly.

Next comes a machine Harry’s never seen Niall use before. All he remembers from the PowerPoint is that it’s a psychomagnotheric whatsit and that it looks like a small, strange vacuum cleaner. He exhales slowly and then crosses the room, taking Zayn’s hand and squeezing gently. He glances up at Niall. “Is this allowed?”

“Yeah, it’s fine. Who knows, it might help.” Niall smiles faintly, looking pale. He begins moving the thing over every inch of Zayn’s skin, beads of sweat rolling down his forehead as he focuses on trying to save Zayn. Harry has never loved Niall more. This is what they’re supposed to be doing, he thinks to himself as he gently squeezes Zayn’s hand again. It’s no longer a fun job with easy money, but who else is going to help people with problems like this?

When it’s all over, Niall sits back on the bed and exhales shakily, his hands trembling with the effort. The room suddenly feels different; less oppressive and crowded, despite there being five of them in it when there were only two of them earlier. Zayn’s shivering and his eyes are closed, but the strange tension he held himself with before has left him, and he’s not growling at Harry with unnatural voices which Harry is definitely considering a check in the plus column.

“I’ll get you a glass of water, Nialler. You too, Zayn. You doing alright, there?” Liam asks quietly, stepping up to the bed to check on Zayn. It may be a dumb question, all things considering, but it gets a weak smile from Zayn.

“Had better days.”

“Yeah. I’d imagine so.” Louis frowns a little, looking around, before he stalks across the length of the workspace and powers on into the hallway. Niall watches him, slowly getting up and following him on wobbly legs. Harry’s not sure what’s going on.

“Right. We were gonna get you some water, hold on,” Harry offers. Zayn nods, not meeting his eyes. Harry’s not sure what that is all about, but Zayn was just possessed by a rather pesky spirit so Harry figures that Zayn should do what he feels is best right now. 

“You go, I’ll stay with him.” Liam sits down on the stool by the bed and Harry shoots him a grateful look before following Niall and Louis into the hall. 

“What is it? What’s wrong?” 

“Not sure yet.” Louis peers up at Zayn’s murals, taking a few pictures of them with with his phone. “These are really brilliant.”

“They are. What do you mean, you’re not sure yet?” Niall’s voice cracks a little, and he’s clearly trying very hard not to sound impatient. Harry can’t blame him, he just performed a two-hour exorcism and he’s probably tired and sweaty and just wants to go home to take a very long nap.

“I just noticed our equipment still isn’t working. So this place is still… Infected, is the word we’re looking for, I think.” Louis holds up the energy meter. “Whatever was inside Zayn is gone, but it might come back. We really don’t know.”

Niall nods slowly. “That’s true. So what are we thinking, that maybe Zayn should come back with us so he has a safe place to stay for a while?”

“Oh. Oh!” Harry looks up at them, smiling and nodding. “Yeah. That would be safest, wouldn’t it?”

“Down, boy.” Louis grins, tapping him lightly on the back of the head. “Why don’t you help Zayn pack? He’s looking a bit overwhelmed so the five of us in one room won’t help him much. We won’t be far, we can wait outside in the car in case of a spiritual possession emergency or what have you. Do try to avoid that, though. Not good for the heart and blood vessels, all that possession.” Louis wrinkles his nose.

Once Liam, Niall and Louis have stepped outside, Harry peers into Zayn’s workspace, clearing his throat. “Hey. Uh, so we’re not sure the place is safe just yet. But if you want, you can stay at our place for the time being? Free of charge, until we find a way to fix your house?” He smiles, hoping Zayn won’t think this is massively creepy - though he can’t quite grasp how crashing at a stranger’s house would be creepier than being possessed by an evil spirit.

“Really? Thanks. I’d go home, but my Mum took my sisters on a vacation and they haven’t had one in so long...” Relief crosses Zayn’s features, but then he becomes drawn again, hugging his knees and frowning a little.

“Is everything alright? I’ve never, you know.” Harry clears his throat. “Been possessed or anything like that, but I can get you an aspirin or something. And I’ll make you a cup of tea. Louis always says there’s nothing that can’t be fixed by an aspirin and a nice cuppa.” He smiles and moves to get up, but Zayn covers Harry’s hand with his own to stop him. 

“No, it’s alright. I just feel, you know. Embarrassed. I could feel and hear the way I was acting, like, earlier; but I couldn’t help it. Like I was tied up, but in my brain. You know?” Harry really doesn’t, but he nods helpfully just in case. “Anyway, I just want to apologize. For stuff I said or did.”

“Please don’t apologize, it wasn’t you. Hardly your fault, is it? Besides,” he says with a slow smile, “if you’d dragged me to bed like that when it was just you, no possession or anything, I probably would’ve been up for it.”

“Dirty.” Zayn smiles, and the hunch seems to leave his shoulders. “So we’re alright, yeah?”

“Absolutely. Come on, the lads are waiting in the car, let me help you pack a bag.” Harry gets up, hooking his hand under Zayn’s arm when he gets up because he still seems more than a little wobbly on his feet. 

“I just,” Zayn says after what feels like an eternity of silently gathering clothes and toiletries. “I just thought I was imagining it? That I was going mad, like. After a while, if you spend a lot of time in an empty house, you wonder if maybe you’re just inventing the company, I guess.” Half of his mouth curls up in a faint smile, but it doesn’t look like a very happy one to Harry.

“Don’t you have any friends in the city?” He chews his lip. He doesn’t like the thought of Zayn having spent all this time alone in a haunted house.

“Nah. I moved here a while ago for the sick work space, but I don’t really get out and meet people. If I did, I would’ve asked _them_ to come check for ghosts, instead of you guys. I mean, no offense.” He smiles at Harry.

“No, I get it.” Harry has to admit that even if all his friends _weren’t_ ghost hunters, he’d probably still ask them to check his house before calling a bunch of strangers from an advert. But it makes him sad to think that Zayn didn’t have anyone he could ring when he wasn’t feeling safe in his own home. He vividly recalls the cold, sad feeling in his stomach when they were at the poltergeist place, and he doesn’t want to know what that must feel like in the long term. How awful it must be to have that feeling while eating, sleeping,... It’s no wonder Zayn thought he might be imagining things.

Before he can stop himself and reconsider, he pulls Zayn into a hug, pressing a kiss to his cheek. Zayn’s skin is cool now, and Harry can feel the last of the tension leave him as he hugs back. The two-day stubble on Zayn’s jaw scrapes lightly along Harry’s cheek, and Harry doesn’t realize Zayn is moving his head until they’re kissing slowly.

Zayn smiles when he finally pulls back. “I don’t want to be here anymore,” he says quietly. 

“Let’s get out of here, then.” Harry steps back and looks around as Zayn zips up his duffel bag. The house creaks, but he’s not sure if it means something. It doesn’t feel stifling anymore, just a bit lonely. “You can sleep in my bed. I mean,” he quickly amends, “I’m going to sleep to the sofa.”

“Yeah well, we’ll see,” Zayn answers with a grin, slinging his bag over his shoulder and falling into step. “Come on, I need a strong drink.”

“I think we have some spirits at the flat,” Harry says with a grin because he cannot help himself.

***

“Stop that.” Zayn smiles. He’s swatting at Harry’s hand, but there’s no real intent behind it. The analyser in Harry’s hand lets out a soft, indignant bleep as he sets it down on the floor with a grin.

“Hey, I’m just making sure you’re not possessed. It’s called being _thorough_ , Zayn Malik.” He smiles down at Zayn even though his hair is falling in his face and making it hard to see.

“And? Am I safe?” Zayn raises an eyebrow.

“Not sure. Parts of you might still be possessed. Your dick seems to have a mind of its own, for one thing...” Harry grins when Zayn flips them over, pushing him down into the mattress and kissing him hard. “But at least you’re not trying to feast on my flesh.”

“Well… Depends on what you mean, really.” Zayn bites down on the soft skin where Harry’s neck meets his shoulder, and it sends a shudder right through him.

“Harry! Zayn! Come out here!” Louis’ voice shouts, loud enough to pierce through the door. Harry sighs.

Zayn blinks and sits up, already slipping into this clothes. “Think something’s wrong?” Harry shrugs, because he has no idea, but he can acknowledge when the moment is gone so he gets dressed quickly and follows Zayn into the sitting room.

“I knew it! Ha!” Louis shouts, slamming the book he’s reading down onto the coffee table. “Ha!” he says again for emphasis. Harry subtly tries to check if his cherry wood table is in one piece. It’s a giant tome and Harry’s grandparents gave him that coffee table.

“Ha?” Liam glances up from where he’s playing FIFA with Niall.

“I knew I’d seen it before.” Louis grins, looking excited. “Come have a look.” He waves them all over, pointing at a complicated looking drawing in the book.

“Hey, that’s -”

“Your mural. Or a part of your mural.” Niall scrolls through the pictures on his phone, setting it down next to the book. The patterns do look worryingly similar.

“But what does it mean?” Liam frowns.

“According to this, it can draw a door between this world and the next. But like.” Louis waves a hand. “A very weak door. Only very bad, very powerful spirits can get through. That was the nasty one you got stuck with, Zayn.”

Niall stares. “Of course. It also explains all the crazy shit we’ve had to deal with in the past few days. Think about it, we went from no cases to poltergeists, demonic Christmas trees and blood dripping down walls!”

“And since Zayn was the closest person to the actual portal, he got the worst of it.” Louis leans back, looking triumphant.

“Very bad, very powerful ghost in my body.” Zayn shakes his head with a tense look, grimacing. “All the showers in the world won’t make me feel better about that,” he says, and suddenly all the time Zayn’s been spending in the bathroom makes way more sense. Harry just thought he was a bit vain.

“Maybe you just need an extra hand to help you scrub properly. Or two,” he says with a grin, and it makes Zayn smile and nudge him with his shoulder, so Harry considers this mission a success.

“Disgusting, you two. Anyway, it’s an easy fix. We just have to paint over it, and that should be that. No more creepy vibes in your house.” Niall smiles. “Or anyone’s house, hopefully.”

“Well, alright then, we can do that in the morning. Bucket of white paint all over that bastard, problem solved. You’ll find something else to paint in that spot, won’t you, Zayn? Maybe some nice safe bunnies and clouds this time?” Louis hides a smile.

“I’ll think of something. Might paint the four of you, as a reminder, you know?”

Harry raises his eyebrows, poking softly at Zayn’s side. “Just as long as you don’t think we’re going somewhere.” He mostly means _he’s_ not going anywhere without being that blatant about it, but Zayn seems to understand anyway. 

“Actually, I was thinking I could just use it as a workspace and stay here a while longer? You’ve got heating and everything.” He grins, pulling Harry in for a deep kiss. Harry laughs against his mouth and kisses back.

“Ack! Keep the sex to your room, please!” Louis leans back, covering his face. 

“Well, alright then,” Zayn says with a pleased smile, taking Harry’s hand and tugging him to his feet. “If you insist.”


End file.
